


The Butterfly Effect

by notaboutcat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Original Character(s), Other, POV Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Time Travel, arthur deserves better, my own attempt at a fix-it, oc is a fish out of water, they all deserve better tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21937279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaboutcat/pseuds/notaboutcat
Summary: “I am a believer of butterfly effect. A small positive vibration can change the entire cosmos;" or the one where Elle Crain falls down the rabbit hole from 2019 into 1899, right into the midst of the decline of the Van Der Linde gang.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston & Original Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Charles Smith & Original Female Character(s), Kieran Duffy & Original Female Character(s), Sadie Adler & Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 64





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT**  
CHAPTER ONE  
DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

“Watch it!”

“Sorry!”

Narrowly dodging the cyclist as she darts across the road, Elle Crain struggles to balance her coffee cup, phone, and work folders in her arms. The universe must _love_ her this morning, because not only did she sleep in, but the strap of her bag had snapped as she made her way to the train station. It had left her with a choice between running back to her apartment to switch her bag or missing the train, so she’d piled her things into her arms and ran. 

God, it’s not even 8 AM yet and her day is shaping up to be _shit_.

Darting into the train station and struggling to get her purse out of the pile in her arms, she comes to a stop when she notices the board displaying the train times.

The one she has been rushing for?

Delayed for forty minutes.

It takes all her restraint to not let out a scream of sheer frustration. She settles for dropping her papers onto the bench instead, before taking a seat and rubbing at her eyes.

Maybe she should just go home. Maybe this will be the day that she quits her godawful job and tell her boss to go fuck herself –

Or maybe she won’t, because she needs to eat and that requires, _you know_ , having things like actual money that she can only get by working her shitty job.

Ok, maybe that’s a bit harsh. So being a personal assistant isn’t exactly what she wants to do for a living, but at least it earns her money, unlike the writing career she wants to pursue. At least, that’s what her mother always says–

Elle sighs, trying to shift her thoughts onto better things; because thinking about her mother will just sour her mood even further. 

There are a few people on the platform that look as tired as she feels. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a man in a dark suit and top hat come to a stop beside her. This was nothing out of the ordinary for her; working in London meant she had seen far stranger people waiting for the train. She folds her arms and stares at the clock, willing it to go faster.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?”

 _Ugggh,_ what _is it_ with people insisting on talking to her before eight in the morning? Elle can be civil, even downright pleasant, but only after at least three cups of coffee. Before then? _Don’t bother,_ she thinks. _The best you’ll get is monosyllabic grunts._

“Not a morning person?” The man says, making Elle’s attention turn towards him.

She smiles sheepishly at him, a little embarrassed for ignoring his first question. She tries to make up for it. “Not particularly.”

He chuckles. “Most people aren’t, are they?”

Elle flashes him a small smile, intending to placate him and --hopefully-- keep him quiet." “I guess.”

He lets out an almost content sounding sigh. “You know, it’s days like these where I always think about that saying, what is it…” he trails off for a moment, rubbing at his chin, “about a butterfly that flaps its wings in one corner of the world and changes the weather on the other side.”

_Okaaaay._

Where the hell is the train? It would be rude to move and she would hate to be rude. Like, she can be rude in her head but the idea of _actually_ doing it and _being_ rude? Can’t do it, seems too mean.

“I’m a big believer in that,” he says.

“That so?” Elle replies softly.

“Mhm,” he says, “I think a person can do similar things. Their actions can effect many around them.”

He glances at her almost expectedly, like he wants a response. It makes Elle shrink under the intensity. “I-I guess.”

“I believe you could achieve something similar, Miss Crain.”

_What?_

The hair on the back of her neck stands on end. _How does he know my name?_ Her eyes dart up and down the platform, searching for somebody. _How the hell does he know my name?”_

It’s empty. _Why the hell was it empty?_ Wasn’t there someone else standing near her like two minutes ago?

The man chuckles. The pit of anxiety in her stomach grows bigger. She needs to move. Fuck this, maybe she should start running. This sounds like the start of a bad thriller movie. Is this a kidnapping attempt?

She scoops her things from the bench and steps forward. “L-look mister I–“

She’s suddenly yanked backwards by the strange man, his hand grasped tightly around her wrist. “You can’t keep your head in the sand for the rest of your life.”

Words don’t come to her; they seem to be stuck in her throat in her panic. Instead, she throws herself forward to tear her wrist out of his grip.

It works too well. She manages to free her wrist, but the force she used to throw herself makes Elle stumble backwards over her own feet.

When her foot slips off the platform, Elle finally can make a sound. She shrieks, bracing herself for impact-

_THUMP!_

Elle groans, feeling her body begin to throb. She pushes her hands against the ground, feeling something soft underneath them-

_Wait what?_

Her eyes snap open. This isn’t the train tracks–

It’s _snow_.

Why the hell is there _snow_?

She pushes herself up to her knees, her vision swimming as she finally takes in her surroundings. It’s only then that Elle realises that there is something very, _very_ wrong.

Instead of being faced with the train tracks, she instead finds herself faced with a forest buried in about six inches of snowfall.

Ok.

 _Ok_.

This is a dream. It has to be. She has cracked her head off the train tracks and is now having a bad concussion-induced dream. Hopefully she can just pinch her arm and then wake up in the back of an ambulance with a bad concussion.

The cold finally sinks again, making her shiver violently and curse at the thin shirt and jacket she decided to wear today. _Are you supposed to be able to feel this cold in dreams?_ She tests her arm pinching theory, frowning when that only gets her a sharp pain.

Ok, so that didn’t work.

Elle squeezes her eyes shut, hoping this would wake her up like it did when she was little and had bad nightmares. She opens them again, letting out an annoyed groan when she finds herself still faced with the mountain.

Ok, so maybe it won’t work because she hit her head and concussion dreams are a lot harder to wake up from. Yeah, that’s what it is. It has to be, right? Maybe she should just stay here and wait for herself to just wake up–

The howl of a wolf cuts through the silence. It’s a little too close for her liking.

_Nope, nope, nope!_

It may just be a dream, but she is not going to have it turn into one of those dreams where she has to outrun something. Elle gets to her feet and takes a step forward, wrapping her arms around her middle tightly as the snowstorm gets worse. Man, she really hopes there’s a house or something nearby because she couldn’t think of anything worse than spending her time freezing her ass off.

How the hell does somebody will their subconscious into making something?

Her teeth begin to chatter as the wind gets stronger. It makes her focus on trying to actually find some kind of shelter, rather than trying to will one into existence. She keeps her head ducked down and her hands tucked under her arms to keep them warm. Could somebody actually get frostbite in a dream? _God_ , could this get any worse?

A distant shout grabs her attention.

_People!_

Actual _people!_

Maybe it’s mountain rescue or something. At this point, Elle doesn’t really care; she just hopes they have somewhere warm she could hide for a little while. She looks up and tries to unclench her jaw to shout for help as the voices come closer.

_THUMP!_

Elle lets out a surprised shriek as a sudden force runs into her, making her fall down onto her hands and knees. Her heart pounds in her chest, feeling the painful throb in her arm return. _Oh god, please tell me that’s a mountain rescue team that barrelled into me or a nice man on a sledge that’s come to rescue me and take me back to his cabin -_

“Well, what do we have here?”

Elle raises her head and feels her stomach drop. The sudden force had apparently been a man on a horse that had barrelled into her. He leers down at her, his cowboy hat pulled down low across his face. _What is this asshole in a bad Clint Eastwood cosplay doing on the side of a mountain and why the hell is he looking at me like that?_

The voices get closer and she turns her head to find two other men of horses approaching her, both wearing the same leering grins as the first. She tries to make herself smaller, as if she shrinks small enough they’ll stop looking at her.

_Spoke too soon about things getting worse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please let me know what you think, this is my first fanfiction i've written for a game like this.


	2. the kindness of strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: threats of sexual assault

**THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT  
CHAPTER TWO  
THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS**

This concussion must be a _bitch_ because Elle’s dream is still going.

After being knocked down, tied up, and thrown on the back of a fucking _horse_ , she finds herself tied to a post in what seems to be a stable. The horses in the pen give her some indication, anyway, along with the stink, of course. The cold has finally sunk in, her thin jacket and trousers wet from the snow, making her shiver. She tries to huddle in on herself to conserve her warmth, her jaw aching because of the gag in her mouth that’s making it sit open.

That’s not the only reason she’s trying to shrink. There are two men standing over her, appraising her like one would appraise a prize horse. _Please god, let this just be a dream._

She eyes their clothes, heavy fur-lined coats and cowboy hats. _Is this a cult?_ Has she been kidnapped by a weird cowboy hat wearing cult? Were they _Amish_?

“Where’d you find this one?” The gruff man says, tugging at one of Elle’s stray curls. His hat is pulled low over his eyes, but she can still see the way he leers it at her. He laughs when Elle pulls her head away, squeezing her eyes shut. His stench, sweat and cigarette smoke, invades her nose, making her stomach churn. 

“Found her wandering about the mountain,” the other man says, “she hasn’t said much, just been spouting off some shit that doesn’t make sense. Either that, or crying.”

“Normally I don’t like the whiny ones, but I might give it a try this time.” She can feel his breath on her face. _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_. “First off, I got some business to take care of. Make sure she or any of those other shitheads don’t get any ideas when I’m gone.”

The implication echoes in Elle’s head, making her stomach writhe in fear. _It’s not real. It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real -_

“Course, Colm.” With that, the pair turn and head out the door, leaving Elle in the deafening silence. That seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back, because, before she even realises what she’s doing, Elle turns her head and vomits on the floor. Coughing and trying to ignore the way the vomit lingers in her throat, she tries to curl up into a ball. Her wrists are burning from where she had tried to wriggle her wrists out of them. They were tied so tightly she doubted they were coming off.

Her chest is getting tight. _She can still feel their hands on her._ Like, _really_ tight. _She can still smell the stink of his breath._

Is it getting harder to breathe in here?

Is she having a panic attack? Is this why her heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of her chest? _It’s not though,_ her brain tries to rationalise _, it’s not._ She’s not having a panic attack because this is a _dream_ and she’s going to _wake up,_ she’s going to wake up _so soon_ –

She lets out a rattling breath, feeling the sting of tears. _I’m not panicking. This is a dream; it’s not worth a panic attack._ Another thought crosses her mind. _What if this isn’t and you’ve been kidnapped by John Wayne cosplayers that want to -_

The more rational part of her brain tries to interrupt. _If that’s the case, then someone will call the police when they notice you not turning up to work._

_Would they though?_ She had worked for the company for over a year and her boss didn’t even know her name. She always got _Ellie_ or _Emma_ , and that was on the good days. The other staff barely wanted to know her. Her parents? Well, she doesn’t want to think about that right now, because that will just send her panic attack into hysterics.

_Would anyone notice?_

The thought makes her inhale a rattling breath of panic. The tears won’t stop now; she can feel her eyes burning and her vision blurring. However, that’s not enough to make her miss the sound of the stable door banging open.

“Hey princess, we got somebody to keep you company!”

Her vision is still blurred, but she can just about make out three men. Two tall and looming in the doorway, one shorter and lanky. _Go away._ “What’s wrong with you?” One barks, seemingly noticing her tears as he crouches down in front of her. She can smell the stink of his breath. _God, has no one heard of a toothbrush?_ “Aw, come on now, we ain’t that bad!”

_Please go away_.

“Don’t be getting too close now,” the other tall man mutters.

“I know, I know! I heard Colm’s orders,” he barks, “just wanted to take a look at her, is all.” He turns to the skinny man. “We got to make our introductions. This, right here, is the princess. You ever been this close to an actual woman before, Duffy?”

The skinny man – Duffy – shrinks under his stare. “Course- Course I have,” he mutters, his face turning pink.

The two man guffaw. “Your face is telling me otherwise! Well, don’t be getting any ideas now, Colm’s got his eye on her.”

_Ohgodohgodohgod_.

Duffy looks horrified, shaking his head. “I ain’t – I wasn’t –“

The two men laugh again. “Well, make sure you don’t because Colm wants you to keep an eye on her. If something happens, _well_ …it’ll be on your own head. You can do that, can’t you Duffy?” The tall man laughs, slapping a hand on Duffy’s shoulders and making him stumble forward. “You know, make sure she doesn’t try to get out,” he turns to Elle and grins lecherously at her, “not that you would, hey sweetheart? We’re having fun, aren’t we?”

Elle shrinks, squeezing her eyes shut. It makes him laugh, before he turns back to Duffy. “Think you could do that?”

“Wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The third man says, sending them into laughter.

“I can- I can handle it,” This Duffy man says.

The taller man turns to his friend, slapping him lightly on the chest. “Well, there you go, Duffy says he can handle looking after one little girl and I believe him! I’m sure even he could fight her off.”

“Wouldn’t be sure of that either,” the other man says, sending them both into laughter as they leave the room.

Duffy hangs his head, his face flushing. He lingers for a moment, his eyes flickering to Elle’s. _Why’s he lingering?_ The silence is deafening as Duffy flickers his eyes from her to the floor. She wants to move, to squeeze her eyes shut, but Elle finds herself frozen in fear. _Please leave me alone, pleasepleaseplease leave me alone. I’ll do anything, please –_

“I – I’m real sorry,” he murmurs. With that, he turns on his heel and darts out the door, leaving Elle on her own again.

She doesn’t stop the tears this time.

* * *

When the tears eventually stop and she manages to calm herself down, Elle spends a long time trying to get the ropes around her wrists loose. It doesn’t work and when the burning pain around her wrists gets to be too much, she knocks her head against the pole in sheer frustration.

“Well hey there, princess.”

_Nononono_.

Her eyes dart back and forth between the two men looming in the doorway. They aren’t the same two from before, who brought the Duffy man in to see her. They still dress similar, thick winter coats and cowboy hats drawn low over the face. They even look similar, with their thick bears and greasy looking hair.

The lecherous look on their faces makes Elle’s heart drop to her stomach.

She pulls her knees up to her chin, trying to make herself as small as possible and make an attempt at moving herself as far away as she can from them. It makes them laugh. “Come on now, darlin’, don’t be doing that. We just came in to say hi.”

They step closer towards her and Elle can feel her heart pounding in her chest. She wants to scream, she would if the gag hadn’t been in her mouth, or maybe she wouldn’t. Her heart is pounding so fast it’s making her feel breathless. It makes her wonder, if she opens her mouth, would any sound even come out?

One of them lets out a low whistle, crouching down beside her. “I don’t know about you but I have not seen a women since we got up this god-awful mountain and I _do_ miss them.” He twists one of Elle’s curls around his finger.

She squeezes her eyes shut. _Just think about something else, try to ignore them._

The other man scoffs. “I don’t know about you, but I usually prefer women with a bit of meat on them.”

His friend snorts, tugging on the curl wrapped around his finger before he grips her thigh tightly. Elle lets out a surprised squawk, her eyes still squeezed shut. “So do I, but I’ll take what I can get. You’ll keep us warm, won’t you, sweetheart?”

_Just keep your eyes shut and pretend they’re not here. Just ignore them_. She knows there’s no chance of her being able to fight them off, but maybe if she keeps her eyes shut she can go into those states she always hears about survivors going into, where they can divorce themselves from their bodies.

“You going to take that thing out of her mouth?” The man close to her says.

“Would you trust her enough to use her mouth?”

He laughs. “You wouldn’t use your teeth, would you sweetheart? You know we wouldn’t be too happy about that, wouldn’t you?”

He moves to take the gag out of her mouth and Elle tugs her head away. The man responds by yanking her back by the hair, making her yelp out in pain.

The door opens again.

Elle opens her eyes, spotting the Duffy man standing there, his own eyes darting from each man. “H-hey fellas,” he says.

“Why don’t you come back later, Duffy?” One of the men says, his face still lingering close to her own. Elle flinches back from it, her own eyes trying to catch Duffy’s attention. He lingers in the doorway for a moment. “You hear me, Duffy?” He repeats when he realises Duffy still hasn’t moved.

He looks at Elle for a moment and she swears he almost looks guilty.

_Make them go away. Make them go away_. _Pleasepleaseplease_.

“Duffy!” The same man exclaims.

“I don’t think I can.”

Elle’s eyes widen as she stares at him. _Is he going to help? Is he going to make them go away? Pleasepleaseplease._ The darker part of her mind hisses that _maybe he wants to join in or maybe he’ll just leave you alone with them._

The two men stand. “The hell did you just say to me?” He hisses.

Duffy takes a step back, his fists clenching. “I-I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

He hesitates for a moment and she’s terrified that he might turn on his heel and run out the door. “Because I was told to keep an eye on her for Colm.”

The man shrugs. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“Well-well you know what Colm’s like if someone touches his things.”

The other man hesitates before he lets out a sheepish laugh and she wonders if Colm’s reputation must precede him. “Well- Colm doesn’t have to know, does he?”

Duffy raises his eyebrows. “You think he won’t find out?”

She can almost see the other man’s hackles being raised. “You going to tell him?”

Duffy nearly jumps about a foot in the air as the other man steps forward. “No, no, no, I wouldn’t, but Colm’s… _Colm_. He always finds out some way.”

There’s silence for a moment while the other man considers his words. “Goddammit,” he hisses, before he turns to his friend, “come on.”

The two men leave and Elle feels her shoulders relax in sheer relief. _Thank god_. Duffy lingers for a moment, before he follows after them. Elle is left alone, trying to calm her pounding heart.

* * *

Some time passes – hours, days, Elle isn’t quite sure – before the Duffy man returns to her, this time holding a bowl and a cup. In a haze, the lack of food and water beginning to get to her, she hopes it’s for her and not some mind game. Would that be some kind of cruel game for them? Taunting her with food when she feels almost delirious?

_God_ , the lack of food and rest must be getting to her because she can feel the sting of tears in her eyes again. Before she can stop herself, she finds herself sobbing around the gag in her mouth. The Duffy man lets out a squawk of surprise when he notices her tears. “Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to do anything funny, I won’t! I got food, see?”

He shows the bowl to her, trying to give her a comforting smile. He squats down to her eye-level, shushing her gently as he tugs the gag out of her mouth. His eyes dart back and forth from the door to her nervously. “Come on now, don’t be making noise, you’ll get the both of us in trouble.”

“Please,” Elle sobs, “ _please_ , just l-let me go. I p-promise I won’t go to the police, I-I just want to go _home_.”

He averts his gaze, looking almost ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, you know I can’t do that. Besides, you leave here and God knows what’ll find you on that mountain. I’ve seen all sorts round here…” He trails off when Elle lets out another sob, picking up the bowl beside him. “Ok, I’m sorry, but I got you a little food! It ain’t great, Dawson ain’t much of cook, but it’s something!”

He takes a spoon of stew and lifts it towards Elle’s lips. She presses them together and turns her head away. God knows what’s in that. This could be a trick; they could be trying to drug her or maybe even poison her…but god she’s so _hungry_.

“Come on,” he hisses, “if somebody catches me with this we’re going to get in a lot of trouble.”

Elle swallows, the smell of the stew making her mouth water. She turns her head back a little. “You don’t eat this now and god knows the next time they’ll give you food, now come on!” His voice is desperate now and his eyes still dart back-and-forth from her to the door.

Her stomach rumbles. She should just eat. They weren’t planning on poisoning her. At least, she doesn’t think so. A mouthful wouldn’t hurt her –

She opens her mouth slowly, making the man sigh in relief. He scoops the stew into her mouth and it takes all of Elle’s willpower not to cry from relief. It’s far from the best food she’s ever eaten. Actually, that’s a lie. The meat is chewy and sits heavy on her tongue, but at the moment, the way she feels, she could have been eating the finest quality steak known to man. Swallowing that mouthful, she opens her mouth for another one.

Soon the bowl is finished and Duffy holds a cup of water to Elle’s mouth for her to drink. “There we go,” he says, “that’s better now, ain’t it?”

Elle manages a shaky smile in response. “T-thanks,” she says, her voice hoarse from both lack of use and the panic attacks she’s been having every couple of hours.

The smile drops when he moves to put the gag back her mouth, feeling the panic rising in her chest again. “D-don’t…” she begs, “ _please_ , don’t. I can’t wear it anymore, it hurts, _please_.”

He falters for a moment and actually looks guilty. “I’m sorry, I-I can’t, I’m not supposed to be talking to you this much,” he says softly, “Colm- Colm don’t like it when people touch his things, he’ll know if I leave the gag off.”

“But-but I’ll tell them I took it off myself, he doesn’t need to know you took it off!” Elle exclaims, her desperation growing. She probably won’t be able to tug her hands free, but she won’t put the gag on again, she _won’t_.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says, “I can’t, I have to put it back on.”

He takes the gag again, moving it towards her mouth. Elle throws her head backwards to get out his grip, hitting her head off the post she’s tied to. It startles her and when Elle opens her mouth to cry out in pain, the Duffy man takes the opportunity to shove the gag back in her mouth. She nearly screams around it out of sheer frustration.

“I’m sorry,” he says, going towards the door, “I’ll come back later and take it off then, I promise.”

Elle ignores him and howls through the gag, feeling the tears burning in her eyes again. Duffy turns and leaves the room quickly, but not before she notices the guilt in his eyes.

* * *

More time passes, she’s not sure how much. Her head is growing heavy; it falls forward every few moments when Elle starts to fall asleep. She’s trying her best to stay awake, terrified of the idea of falling asleep and leaving herself vulnerable around these people.

Her tightly wound sense of control, the one thing that kept her constant state of internal panic under wraps, has pretty much been thrown out the window and the state of panic is making her exhaustion worse.

God, she needs to stop _crying_. She knows she isn’t the strongest person, both physically and mentally, but this is fucking _pathetic_.

She needs to do something that isn’t just _crying_. The door looms in front of her and Elle thinks about her running fantasy from the last couple of days; running out that door and getting to the police. Getting away from this camp and never looking back.

_You know what;_ the ropes around her wrists have been on for a couple of days. She bets if she moves enough she can get them loose, just like in the movies. It might work, even if she has to dislocate her wrists. That’s how people got out of handcuffs.

(In movies anyway.)

Elle starts to move her wrists, trying to ignore the way it makes them burn. _Maybe if I stand it’ll help._ With shaking legs, Elle pulls her knees up, sliding her back up the pole. Her stomach drops when she stands up, squeezing her eyes shut to try to stop the wooziness. It steadies for a moment and Elle smiles.

Maybe things were actually starting to go her way.

Then her knees go out from under her.

Ok.

_Ok_ , so it turns out sitting on her ass for god knows how long isn’t good for her legs.

_Who knew?_

It’s not even that funny, but the situation makes Elle giggle and she isn’t able to stop herself. Curled up into a ball, her wrists still tied to the pole, Elle finds herself stuck in a state of almost hysterical laughter towards the situation. The whole situation really; being kidnapped by some Amish cult, being stuck on some snow-covered mountain, the lack of food and water.

It’s a long time before she’s able to stop.

* * *

_BANG!_

Elle jolts upright, being awoken from the state of unconsciousness she lapsed into after what felt like three days awake.

It takes a moment for her to realise the noise isn’t the door being thrown open like before, it sounds like… _gunfire_. Soon, she begins to process the fact that it isn’t _just_ gunfire but shouting and cursing.

The door is thrown open.

Elle screeches as best she can through the gag. _Oh god, they’re back._ She tries to move backwards as best she can, trying to shrink and hide. _Oh god, what are they going to do?_

“Uh, Dutch? I think you should get down here and see this!”

_Who the hell is Dutch?!_

“What are you talking about, Bill – “

Another man appears at the door, this one in a heavy black coat. “My god,” he mutters, taking a step towards her. It makes Elle try to push herself further back. He holds his hands up at the reaction in a gesture of surrender. “It’s alright, miss,” he says, speaking in a calming tone, “it’s alright, we ain’t going to hurt you. We’re not like them.”

Elle stares at him. The words seem to just swim around in her head, struggling for them to sink in. _Who is we?_

He lifts his hands towards her face, making her flinch back. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to take the gag off, ok?” She continues to stare at him. There’s something…sincere about him.

“You sure that’s a good idea, Dutch?” The other man says, the one who had found her. “This could one of Colm’s tricks.”

The man kneeling in front of her doesn’t seem so sure. He stares at Elle, taking in the bruises on her face, her bloodshot eyes and the way she won’t meet his eyes. “Somehow, I doubt it,” he murmurs, “what’s your name, miss?”

Elle blinks and stares at him for a moment. “E-elle,” she says, her voice cracking from lack of use and water, “my name is Elle Crain.”

“Well, Miss Elle, my name is Dutch van der Linde,” he says. “How did you get into a situation like this?”

_Good question._ She really doesn’t know how the hell she got on this mountain. She remembers the strange man. She remembers falling, but that’s about it until she woke up on the mountain.

Maybe she has amnesia.

Maybe this is like a bad Lifetime original movie where she’s stuck in a coma.

Either way, Dutch is looking at her expectedly. She has a feeling any answer she gives, he won’t believe her.

_No_. No, that would require an answer, which she doesn’t have _because she still doesn’t know how she got here_.

“I-I don’t know,” Elle answers honestly.

Dutch looks at her, stares at her again. His eyes seemingly searching for an answer he would believe. He stands, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve and turning from her. It makes Elle’s heart jump to her throat. _Please don’t. Please don’t leave me with these men._ “Well, Miss Elle, my friends and I intend to get far away from this camp and down off this mountain,” he explains, “how would you feel about joining us?”

Elle’s eyes snap to him. _Joining him?_ Her eyes snap from him to the other man – Bill – still hovering in the doorway. _Why does he want her to join them?_ The pit in her stomach says they may be the same as Colm. Dutch makes a motion with his head towards her. Her stomach drops further and she squeezes her eyes shut, as Bill steps towards her. _Oh god, oh please, don’t -_

They open once she realises that he’s cutting her hands free. She hisses and rubs at raw marks on her wrists.

It occurs to her that Dutch is still hovering over her expectedly. Elle glances up at him nervously, realising that he’s holding his hand out to her. For a long moment, she stares at it.

_He could be like those men._

_He could be worse. The whole group could be worse._

Then she can suddenly feel Colm’s hands on her and smell the stink of his breath and it’s then that she decides that she isn’t going to be here if that _man_ decides to come back.

He wants to get off the mountain, well that works for her. The sooner she can call the police and figure out where she is, the better.

Lifting her own shaking hand, Elle takes Dutch’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and thank you for the response to the last one! I know it was kind of dark, but now we're with the Van der Linde's, so things will be getting better. Please let me know what you think and if you guys have any questions or thoughts on the chapter, feel free to check out my tumblr warrioreyess.


	3. not quite oz

**THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT  
CHAPTER THREE  
NOT QUITE OZ**

To her embarrassment, Elle faints as soon she stands after Dutch cuts her free.

When she wakes, she finds herself _warm_ for the first time in days. There’s a threadbare blanket covering her, which is frankly quite scratchy, but at the moment, she doesn’t really care. She just appreciates not being tied to a post. She also appreciates the fire she can hear crackling in the background. Part of her wants to close her eyes and go back to sleep.

Then she realises where she is.

She manages to pull open her eyes, finding herself faced with the wall and begins to turn herself around.

Someone sighs and she stops in her tracks, feeling her chest constrict with panic. _Who is that?_

“Out with it, Hosea.” She knows that voice, that’s Dutch. The other man, she isn’t so sure about. It isn’t who was with Dutch when he found her – _what is his name? Ben? Bill maybe?_

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know that look, I know it says otherwise.” There’s another long moment of silence, before Dutch cuts across again, his voice not _sharp_ , but rather…agitated instead. “ _Hosea_.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hosea says finally.

“What, taking in more poor lost souls?” Dutch asks, letting out a humourless chuckle. “You haven’t stopped me before.”

“Well, times change,” Hosea says, his own frustration becoming clear. “Dutch, we are supposed to be keeping our heads down; growing in numbers doesn’t help that. Not only that, there’s barely enough food for us, let alone two strangers.”

“I’m surprised at you, Hosea. Are you suggesting that I should have left them to their fates?” Dutch asks incredulously, “one with her home burning down around her and the other with the O’Driscolls?”

“You know I’m not, Dutch,” Hosea snaps, “but I’m saying we have to think about this _practically_ after the whole mess in Blackwater. We need to keep our heads down and keep attention away from us, growing in numbers _doesn’t help that_!”

There’s a long moment of silence after Hosea snaps. Elle doesn’t dare move and barely allows herself to breathe.

“I understand your frustration. We’ve had… _far_ too many losses. Jenny, Mac, Davy, Sean….” He trails off before his voice turns dark and angry, “But you _know_ what the O’Driscolls do to women, Hosea. I couldn’t leave her there.”

There’s another long moment of silent and when Hosea starts to speak again, he sounds exhausted. “What happened to Annabelle…”

Dutch cuts across him. “Won’t happen again. At least, not if I can help it,” he sighs. “We aren’t monsters, Hosea. We may rob and frighten the seemingly decent folk, but we don’t have to be monsters."

The silence they stay in is deafening. Elle tries her best to keep her breath steady and keep pretending to be asleep, despite how her chest feels like it’s constricting with panic. _I want to go home._ She wants to go back to her flat, get in her bed, and not leave for a couple of days.

_BANG!_

The door bursts open, banging off the wall, and startling Elle. She hopes Hosea and Dutch don’t notice how she nearly jumps out of her skin. “Uncle Hosea, guess what we saw!” An excited young voice echoes through the room.

Is that a little boy? Why do they have a little boy up a snow-covered mountain? _Is this a commune?_

“What did you see, son?” Hosea asks, his tone noticeably more cheerful than moments earlier.

“A big deer! One with those big antlers like in my book!” He sounds young, only about five or six.

“A stag? Well, that’s exciting,” Hosea says, his voice gentle, almost fatherly.

“It was huge! Even bigger than Pa or Uncle Arthur! Wasn’t it, mama?”

“It was, Jack, now let’s get some dinner, sweetpea, I’m starving,” a woman says. Elle assumes she’s Jack’s mother.

“Yes, I’m sure you’re hungry after all your adventures. Go see Pearson, I’m sure there’s some stew left,” Dutch says, before he lets out a laugh. “Don’t look so happy about that, Abigail.”

“You know how much I love Pearson’s stew, Dutch.” Her tone is sarcastic, making Elle wonder why they let Pearson cook the stew if it isn’t that great. “Come on now, Jackie.”

Elle stiffens in panic when she hears the floorboard creak near her. _Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leavemealonepleasepleaseplease._

“ _Jack_!” The woman – Abigail – exclaims, startling both her and Jack.

“Sorry, Mama, I just wanted to meet the new lady!” Jack says, sounding apologetic. Elle just hopes he’ll leave her be, she doesn’t feel like talking to anyone now or explaining how she got here. Especially when she isn’t exactly sure herself.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Jack,” Hosea says.

“Leave the poor girl be,” Abigail says, “I’m sure she needs her rest. Has she said anything yet?” Elle assumes that question is directed towards Hosea and Dutch.

“She’s been asleep the whole. The O’Driscoll said she was brought in a few days ago, so God knows what they did to her,” Dutch explains.

_O’Driscoll_? Who are these O’Driscoll people they keep talking about?

“Poor girl,” Abigail says, “does he know much about her?”

“Not a lot,” Dutch says, “apparently she was found on the mountain and was brought back to be a… _companion_ for Colm.” The distaste in Dutch’s voice is clear. It makes the hair on the back of Elle’s neck stand up, her panic steady at the thought of what could have happened if Dutch hadn’t found her.

_You’re not there anymore. You got away. You’re going to get away._

“What an awful man,” Abigail says.

“Indeed,” Dutch says, “come now, though. Let’s get something warm to eat.”

“Yes,” Hosea agrees, “have you told Arthur about the stag, Jack?”

“No, I should go do that!” Jack exclaims excitedly. She can hear his footsteps as he turns out the front door.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea to leave her here?” Despite Abigail whispering, Elle can hear her very clearly.

“Somehow, I don’t think we have much to worry about from her,” Dutch replies.

Within moments, Elle is alone again and feels the vice-grip of a panic attack come across her chest.

* * *

She passes out after another panic attack, the exhaustion catching up on her. It’s dark when she opens her eyes, keeping still for a moment to listen for anyone else in the room. It seems to be quiet so Elle shuffles around to sit up on the bed.

Only to find herself faced with a little boy eyeing her curiously.

The pair let out a matching shriek of fright.

“You scared me!” Elle exclaims, unable to stop the anger in her voice. The panic she’s felt for the past God knows how many days seems to steep out of her and, unfortunately, the little boy seems to get put in the firing line. “Why the hell are you standing over me?”

The boy – she assumes this is Jack – shrinks slightly and it does make her feel bad. _He’s just a little boy, he has nothing to do with you getting kidnapped or being kept by some other random gang._ “I-I’m really sorry,” Jack says, staring at his feet abashedly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The anger in her wilts a little, making her sigh. “It’s ok, just wasn’t expecting you to be standing over me like that.”

“Sorry, momma always said that’s rude,” he says, “I just wanted to talk to you!”

Elle can’t help but smile at how sincere Jack is. “You did?”

“Yeah! Momma said I should leave you alone because you would be too tired to talk, but you’ve been sleeping so long, everyone else has gone to bed! I thought maybe you would wake up now,” he admits.

“Is that why you waited until your mum went to sleep before you came to talk to me?” Elle can’t help but smile softly. She likes kids, she likes how honest they are, and dammit, even if the rest of these people may be in a cult, she doubts he has much to do with it. He’s too cute for her to be too adorable to be angry at.

Maybe she’s not as angry because he’s the first person who’s spoken kindly to her in days. It’s nice not to have strange men looming over her. 

He smiles sheepishly. “Well, we haven’t got anyone new in ages! And you came from the O’Driscolls and momma said they’re bad men, but you don’t look that mean! And then I heard you crying earlier and I thought it was maybe because it was because the snow’s so loud, it makes me cry sometimes because it makes it sound like the whole house is going to come down, but momma says it won’t, so don’t worry!”

Elle blinks, struggling to process the sheer amount of information that came out of the kid’s mouth. “That-that’s really kind of you, Jack.”

He nods. “I know it can be scary, it’s almost as loud as a big thunderstorm, and I really, really don’t like them!”

“I know, you can’t even hear any cars going past, it’s so loud,” Elle says.

Jack tilts his head, looking at her confusedly. “A what?”

Elle frowns. God, they must be Amish. “You know what, never mind,” she says, “why don’t you head back to bed, Jack, I’m sure it’s late.”

The confusion from before forgotten, Jack’s face falls. “ _Awww_!”

“Come on, kid, I’m sure your mum will be looking for you.”

“Well, can I talk to you more tomorrow? You don’t sound like you’re from here!” He says. She has to admit, he is right. It seems like every person she’s interacted with sounds American. Not just American, but like the kind of American accent you would hear in a cowboy movie.

She’s choosing to focus on one thing at a time or else her head may explode.

“Of course,” Elle says, _if I’m still here_.

“Ok, night-night…” he trails off, staring at her in confusion for a moment. “Wait a minute, what’s your name?”

“Elle,” she says, unable to keep the soft smile off her face.

“Night-night, Ellie!” He says, darting out the door before Elle can correct him. She smiles to herself for a minute, before deciding to get to work.

She stands up and her legs nearly go out from under her. Elle grabs onto the table as her head spins. _Food._

_Food might be a good idea._

_Maybe some water too_.

There are cupboards in the room, so she starts to shuffle towards them hoping that there may be something in there. Inside, there’s only a packet of dry crackers, but it’s better than nothing so she nibbles at the end of one.

In her search for water, Elle comes across discarded papers strewn over the table, finding mostly letters and a map buried underneath them. Maybe this could tell her something more about where she is and how to get off this _fucking_ mountain. However, to her irritation, nearly all the letters seem to be dated back to _1899_ for some reason.

_God, maybe they are Amish and this would explain the letters and the horses._

_Maybe historical reenactors that took things really seriously?_

Her mind flashes back to Jack’s confusion at her mentioning a car. _Could it actually?_

_No._

_No, that’s crazy._

_It’s not 18-fucking-99._

Right.

Okay.

She needs to get off this mountain. She needs to get back to civilization and prove to herself that this isn’t 1899. Still clutching the crackers, Elle darts out the door of the cabin, finding herself in the dark of night.

The snow has stopped for now, but Elle doesn’t want to trek down the mountain on foot in case she has another run in with the O’Driscolls. 

_Maybe there’s a car._

_There won’t be, because it’s 1899, genius!_

No it’s not. It can’t be 1899, it isn’t. This is just a weird Amish cult situation going on, she just needs to get off this mountain and get help.

_How though?_

Elle circles the cabin when she finds herself faced with a horse leashed to a fence near the cabin. Ok, so maybe that could work. She’s never actually _ridden_ a horse, but surely it couldn’t be too hard, she just has to manage to stay on.

There’s also the matter of actually _steering_ the horse, but you know what, considering the circumstances, she could figure it out as she went along.

_Sink or swim, Elle, come on._

Now, how to actually get on the horse?

The most contact Elle has with animals is leaving out food for the cat that would occasionally appear on the balcony of her apartment, so horses are kind of out of her range.

“Easy, horsey,” Elle says softly, holding out a shaky hand to attempt to pet the horse. Remembering the crackers are still in her hand, Elle holds one up with a shaking hand. “Do-Do you want a cracker?”

Instead, it rears its head and lets out a neigh, almost snapping its teeth at her. She jumps back nearly a foot in the air, her heart hammering her chest as she steps backwards. “Ok, nope, nope, nope, never mind.”

_Is it possible for a horse to look angry at you?_

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Elle jumps in surprise, whipping around and finding herself faced with another John Wayne reject, this one blonde, tall, and looming over her.

_Uh oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally have Arthur! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, I’m not really happy with it but I did want to establish why Dutch decided to take Elle in. We’ll be getting to the good stuff next with Arthur’s arrival! If you guys have any questions, feel free to head to my tumblr notaboutcat. Sorry for the long gap since the last chapter, I’m kind of a slow updater, but now that we’re on lockdown and my placements have been cancelled for the foreseeable future () it may force me to write more. Hope you’re all doing ok!!


End file.
